T Is For Traumatized
by RkieFan
Summary: Mike has difficulty dealing with the repercussions of the restaurant shooting.


DISCLAIMER: The characters are the property of Viacom and Spelling/Goldberg Productions. No copyright infringement is intended. The author retains the rights to the story.  
  
TITLE: T Is For Traumatized  
  
RATING: R for sexual content.  
  
SETTING: Second season, right after 'A Matter Of Justice.'  
  
SUMMARY: Mike has difficulty dealing with the repercussions of the restaurant shooting.  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Emotion wise, 'A Matter Of Justice' was probably my favorite episode. It gave all of the characters an opportunity to show angst, but in particular, Mike and Jill. I've always wondered what would've happened if the episode had explored more of what they must've been feeling, in particular Mike, who must've felt some measure of guilt that he wasn't able to protect Jill on that awful night. Once again, I want to also thank Bridget for beta reading for me and for letting me vent my ideas to her.  
  
PART ONE: THE NIGHTMARE  
  
Mike had been having the same nightmare for two weeks, ever since Jill had come home from the hospital after the shooting. It had gotten where he dreaded going to sleep at night. Now he knew how Jill must've felt during the early days of their relationship when nightmares seemed to rule her life.  
  
The dream was almost the same with few variations. They were in the restaurant when Wainz came in with his gun. Only, instead of shooting up the place, he would suddenly change form into a fearsome fire-breathing monster, and instead of shooting Jill, he grabbed her and carried her off, while all the while, Mike stood in the middle of the room screaming her name. He always woke up in a cold sweat after the dreams and it took him forever to go back to sleep. He would look over at Jill, peacefully asleep beside him and thanked God he hadn't lost her that awful night.  
  
They were both still coming to terms with what had happened that night. Jill still wouldn't talk about it and Mike was beginning to wonder now if that was such a good idea. Maybe if they talked about what had happened, then his nightmares would end and they could both move on. He couldn't discuss his nightmares with her because every time he tried, she would change the subject. He couldn't discuss them with Terry and Willie because the very subject made them uncomfortable, so he shut them out and tried not to think about them until the next night, when he once again went to sleep and had the awful dreams again.   
  
  
  
Mike was sitting at the kitchen table the next morning with his head in his hands when Jill walked in.  
  
She walked over and kissed him on the top of his head. "Good morning. I didn't hear you get up."  
  
"I didn't want to wake you up," he said quietly.  
  
"Are you all right?" She asked worriedly, pouring a cup of coffee and sitting down beside him.  
  
"Yeah, I just didn't sleep well," he answered wearily.  
  
Jill sat there idly stirring her coffee. They'd discussed the shooting briefly several days after she'd come home from the hospital and Jill had made it clear that she didn't want to ever talk about it again. Most days now, she could get by without thinking of that night. Other days weren't so easy. Those were the days when she would start crying at the drop of a hat. She hoped once she returned to work full time, those days would end. She was still waiting for an okay from her doctor to return to full duty. At the moment she was working half days.  
  
"Mike, maybe you should talk to somebody. About the nightmares, I mean," Jill suggested quietly, unable to look him in the eyes.  
  
"I'm okay. I can deal with it. I have to go," he stated abruptly, looking at his watch. He leaned over and quickly kissed Jill. "I'll see you tonight."  
  
"Okay. Be careful," she said, watching him as he walked out the door.  
  
  
  
Mike was sitting in roll call an hour later listening to Lt. Ryker outlining the days assignments. He'd seen Terry and Willie earlier, but he hadn't been in the mood for small talk. He'd just wanted to get in here without having to talk to anybody. Terry glanced over at him at they got ready to walk out the door.  
  
"You seem deep in thought this morning," Terry observed.  
  
"Yeah, I guess I've got a lot on my mind," Mike agreed shortly. "I'll see you guys later."  
  
"Yeah. You, too," Willie said as Mike hurried out the door toward his squad car. "I wonder what's up with him."  
  
"I don't know. I guess if he wants us to know, he'll tell us. Come on," Terry sighed as they headed for their patrol car.  
  
  
Mike spent an uneventful morning answering a number of minor calls. It was usually the kind of morning he liked. Busy, but nothing earth shattering. But today he was finding it very hard to stay focused. For some reason, the previous night's nightmare was weighing heavily on his mind. He wasn't one who usually tried to read meanings into dreams, but he really wondered what these nightmares meant. Jill was right when she had suggested he talk to someone, but the person he really wanted to talk to was her.   
  
  
  
Terry was sitting out by the pool when Mike got home that afternoon. He called him over as Mike was preparing to go upstairs.  
  
"Hey, we haven't seen much of you lately," Terry said, taking a sip of his beer.  
  
"What are you talking about? You just saw me this morning," Mike countered, sitting down in the lounge chair beside Terry.  
  
"Yeah, I know. But we haven't seen much of you or Jill outside of a work situation in a while. I was just wondering if everything was okay," Terry clarified.  
  
"I'm not sure. Have you ever had dreams and you've wondered what they mean?" Mike asked.  
  
"Sure, sometimes. Why?" Terry asked, watching his friend carefully.  
  
"I've been having these nightmares. They're all basically the same and I've been having them every night, sometimes more than once a night. I've tried talking to Jill about them but she changes the subject," Mike explained, needing to talk to someone.  
  
"I'm willing to listen if you're willing to tell me about them," Terry told him.  
  
"Okay. But the last time I tried to talk to you about this, you got pretty uncomfortable," Mike reminded him.  
  
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that. You've always been more than willing to listen to my problems and we've always hashed things out to each other in the past, so you've got my undivided attention," Terry stated warmly, handing a beer out to Mike, who took it gratefully.  
  
"They always start out the same. Jill and I go to Morton's for dinner and Wainz comes into the place, but he doesn't pull out a gun this time. He turns into some kind of a monster. I'm trying to keep Jill away from him, but he grabs her and takes off with her. I'm just standing in the middle of the room screaming her name. It's like my feet are cemented to the floor. I can't move. Other times, as he's going out the door with her, he spews fire everywhere. I don't understand them and they feel like they're beginning to dominate my life," Mike finished in a shaky voice, taking a long drink of his beer.  
  
"Dominate your life how?" Terry asked curiously.  
  
"I can't function," Mike said, running a hand across his hair.  
  
"Function? Mike, you're losing me. I mean, you're going to work every day. I haven't heard Ryker or any of the other higher ups complaining about your job performance," Terry continued.  
  
"Oh, I'm functioning fine at work. It's here at home that I'm not doing so well," Mike sighed bitterly, looking at Terry and hoping he wasn't going to have to draw him a picture.  
  
Terry sat looking at Mike for about 30 seconds before it dawned on him what Mike was talking about. "Oh, that kind of functioning."   
  
"Yeah, THAT kind of functioning," Mike acknowledged, blushing beet red. "The thing is, I'm not sure if Jill's bothered by my lack of overtures toward her or not. She hasn't said anything about it, but I'm sure she will eventually," Mike explained.  
  
"I thought you guys got all that worked out. I mean, didn't you tell me about the candles and the bathtub and all that stuff?" Terry asked.   
  
"Yeah, right after Jill came home from the hospital, but that was the last time we were...together. I mean, I thought we were making progress that night. We sat up and we talked about the shooting, but the next morning she told me that that was the last time she was going to talk about what happened that night. That was when the nightmares started," Mike concluded, looking at the ground.  
  
"Did you talk about her feelings that night or yours?" Terry asked.  
  
"I don't know. We talked about a lot of things. I have so many feelings rattling around in my head about that night that I wouldn't even know where to begin," he said wearily. "I know none of it should've happened."  
  
"Well, we all know that. You've got to sit her down and make her listen to you, Mike. Tell her about the nightmares. She understands about nightmares more than most people I know," Terry stated.  
  
"Yeah, well, I'd better get upstairs. She's going to be home soon. I'll talk to you later," he said, throwing his beer can away and walking upstairs.  
  
  
  
Mike got another beer out of the refrigerator and lay down on the couch to watch TV while he waited for Jill to get home. The last few weeks had seemed endless. First the shooting, then learning about the baby, then Wainz escaping from custody, then tracking him down and finally, getting Jill back home and back into some semblance of their regular married life. He remembered watching the TV news with Jill the night Wainz had been re-captured. She hadn't seen him come into the restaurant that night and so had never known what he looked like until she saw him on the news. She'd commented to Mike about how pathetic he looked with his bandaged head. She'd thought he would look like some sort of a monster. Mike thought maybe that's why he always turned into a monster in his dreams, because that's what he was perceived to be.  
  
He remembered talking to his father the next morning. His father had called him at home after hearing about the shooting on the morning news. Mike never told his parents about the miscarriage. It seemed so pointless to bring it up. His father had asked if there was anything they could do. Mike asked him if he could turn back the clock. He was then accused of being melodramatic. Mike laughed bitterly and slammed the phone down.  
  
The two beers made Mike drowsy and he fell asleep on the couch with the TV droning in the background.   
  
  
  
Jill got home shortly after five and checked the mail before going upstairs. She was surprised to find Mike asleep on the sofa when she walked in. She was worried about him. She knew he hadn't been sleeping well lately. She set the mail on the table and walked over to the sofa.  
  
"Mike? Mike?" She gently touched him on the arm.  
  
Mike jerked bolt upright, his eyes wide. He relaxed when he realized it was Jill. "Babe, I'm sorry. You startled me."  
  
"You were dreaming again?" She guessed.  
  
"Yeah, I must've been. How long have you been home?" He asked.  
  
"I just got here. Are you okay? I was going to go start dinner," she explained, taking his hand in hers and squeezing it gently.  
  
"Yeah, I think I'm going to go take a shower," he said, getting off of the sofa and stretching.  
  
"Mike, is something wrong?" Jill asked.  
  
"I'm not sure. Let me go take a shower and then we can have dinner," he said, kissing her lightly.  
  
Jill blinked back tears as she went into the kitchen to start dinner. Once upon a time, she used to get a much more welcome reception than that from her husband. They hadn't made love in two weeks and Jill still wasn't comfortable enough to initiate any intimacy, but then she usually didn't need to. Maybe he was waiting for a signal from her. The trouble was that she wasn't sure if she really wanted to make love or not. She decided maybe she needed to get more comfortable. Tonight would be as good a night as any to start.  
  
Mike stood under the shower letting the water pelt down on him. He was trying to remember what he'd been dreaming about when Jill woke him up. It had been different this time, but he couldn't remember exactly how. He turned off the water and stepped out of the shower.  
  
Jill was setting the table when Mike came back into the room. She walked over, wrapped her arms around his waist and kissed him. He returned her kiss half-heartedly before walking over to the table and sitting down in his chair.  
  
Jill sat there watching him, wondering what was on his mind. "How was work?" She asked, deciding on a neutral subject.  
  
"Okay," he answered non-commitally, digging into his dinner. "Same old stuff.".  
  
"Nothing new and amusing with Willie and Terry?" Jill queried hopefully, trying to get him to talk about something. Talking about anything was better than the stony silence that had suddenly invaded their relationship.  
  
"I don't know. I didn't talk to them much today," he stated firmly.  
  
"The dreams are really starting to get to you, aren't they?" She guessed, concerned.  
  
"Yeah. I was thinking about what you were saying this morning...about talking to somebody. Maybe you're right," he sighed resignedly.  
  
"I can ask around the hospital, if you want me to," Jill offered quietly, picking up her fork and playing with it absently.  
  
"No, that's okay. I already have an appointment with the department shrink tomorrow. It'll be okay," he looked at her, forcing a smile.  
  
After Jill cleaned up the kitchen she joined Mike on the living room couch where he was reading the paper. 'There's no time like the present,' she thought ruefully. Before she could chicken out she leaned over and lightly kissed him on the neck.   
  
He put his paper down and looked at her. "What are you doing?" He asked abruptly, pulling away from her.  
.  
"And I thought you were a smart man," she chastised as she curled up beside him and trailed her fingers down his chest. "What does it look like I'm doing?" She asked with a wicked grin.  
  
He couldn't help but grin in return, turning towards her as she lightly started trailing her fingers up his thigh. He started to respond to her caresses when he abruptly pulled away from her.  
  
"Mike, what's wrong?" Jill asked in a disappointed voice.  
  
"I don't know. I just can't do this. I don't know why, I just can't!" He exclaimed in dismay, getting up and pacing the room.  
  
"Mike, we can get through this," she said quietly, unable to move. She felt as if she'd been doused with a bucket of cold water. "It'll be okay. I love you."  
  
"Babe, I'm sorry. I've just got so much going through my head right now. I've got to figure out what's going on in here. Once I do that, I'll make this up to you. I promise," he said, kissing her.  
  
"I'm going to hold you to that," she said teasingly.  
  
PART TWO: MIKE STARTS TO CONFRONT HIS DEMONS  
  
The next afternoon, Mike drove to Parker Center for his meeting with the department psychiatrist. He took the elevator to the fifth floor and found the office he was looking for. The sign on the door read 'Dr. Phillip Leavy.' Mike hesitantly knocked on the door and opened it when he heard a voice tell him to enter. Mike walked into an office decorated in wood paneling and brown leather. The doctor was sitting behind a desk cluttered with papers. He looked up when Mike walked in.  
  
"Officer Danko?" He asked pleasantly, getting to his feet. He was in his late 40's, with graying brown hair and brown eyes. He was dressed in casual clothes.  
  
"Yes, sir," Mike said, shaking the hand that was offered to him.  
  
"Please, have a seat," the doctor told him.  
  
Mike looked around, surprised that there wasn't a couch in sight. He sat down in a chair in front of the doctor's desk and fidgeted uncomfortably, not sure of what to expect.   
  
"So, what can I do for you? I've been examining your file and there's no indication that you've been asked to see me," he said, sitting back down and looking over Mike's file.  
  
"Yeah, well, I've never been to a psychiatrist before," Mike said, shifting uncomfortably.  
  
"That's okay. Just think of me as a cop first. That's what I was for 20 years before I decided I'd be of better use as a police psychiatrist. So, what can I do for you?" Dr. Leavy again asked Mike.  
  
"A few weeks ago, my wife and I were involved in a shooting. She was shot. I've been having nightmares ever since she came home from the hospital," Mike explained.  
  
"Does she know about the dreams?" Dr. Leavy asked, jotting a note down in the file.  
  
"I've tried talking to her about them, but she doesn't like talking about that night so she changes the subject," Mike sighed, uncomfortable with revealing details of his private life with a stranger. "I thought maybe if I came and talked to you that they'd stop."  
  
"Unfortunately it's not that simple," Dr. Leavy informed him.  
  
"What do you mean?" Mike asked anxiously.  
  
"Officer Danko, I'm not going to be able to help you in just one visit. We'll talk about different things to try to interpret what the dreams mean, but it's going to be up to you to get them to stop," he explained patiently.  
  
"I know the dreams have something to do with what happened that night. I'm just not sure what," Mike admitted.  
  
"Okay. Tell me about the dreams," Dr. Leavy suggested, getting out a pad and pen.  
  
"My wife and I go to the restaurant and sit down at our table. Right after that, Wainz comes in," Mike started to say.  
  
"Wainz?" Leavy interrupted.  
  
"The perp. Anyway, instead of shooting around the restaurant, he comes to our table and grabs Jill. When I try to stop him, he turns into a fire-breathing monster and he starts spitting fire all around the restaurant. I wake up as I'm standing in the middle of the floor screaming her name," Mike finished, shaking.  
  
"I did read about the shooting in the paper, but I don't know any of the details. Were you aware that anything was wrong before this Mr. Wainz entered the restaurant?" Leavy probed.  
  
"No. Everything happened so fast," Mike admitted, having gone over that night in his mind dozens of times.  
  
"How fast?" Leavy again queried.  
  
"I don't know. It was all over in about five minutes," Mike answered slowly.  
  
"Did the police catch Mr. Wainz?" Leavy continued taking notes as he asked questions.  
  
"No, I cold-cocked him. He hit Jill with his first or second shot. After I realized she was hit I saw him trying to reload. I tackled him and knocked him out. He was still out cold when the police got there," Mike answered grimly.  
  
"Were there any repercussions from you knocking him out?"  
  
"What do you mean?"   
  
"What was IAD's determination on the incident?" Leavy clarified.   
  
"They said it was justifiable. I kept other people from being hurt or killed that night."  
  
"But?" Dr. Leavy prompted pointedly.  
  
"But what?" Mike asked blankly.  
  
"Okay, we'll skip that for right now. Tell me about your relationship with your wife," Dr. Leavy said, looking at Mike.  
  
"What do you want to know?" Mike didn't understand what Dr. Leavy was getting at.  
  
"Do you have a good relationship?"  
  
"Yeah, we have a great relationship. I love her very much," Mike smiled.  
  
"How would you characterize that relationship? What I mean is, have you always been able to protect her in the past?" Dr. Leavy questioned.  
  
"Yeah, I guess so," Mike still didn't understand what the doctor was trying to get at.  
  
Just then, a bell sounded on the doctor's desk. "Your hour's up. Why don't you come back Thursday and we'll talk some more," Dr. Leavy said, standing up.  
  
"Okay."  
  
"Do me a favor and think about your feelings that night. And, we'll talk about that on Thursday," Leavy shook Mike's hand as he walked him to the door.  
  
  
  
Mike lay in bed beside Jill that night, thinking about the night of the shooting. Everything that night had gone wrong from the moment they'd entered the restaurant and found out that someone else had been given their table. Once they finally got seated, it was only a matter of a few minutes before Wainz had entered the restaurant and opened fire. Mike had ceased thinking clearly the moment he'd seen Jill lying on the floor. He still wasn't sure he was thinking clearly. He didn't know what he'd been feeling that night. The emotions were all jumbled up inside. He turned over on his left side and watched Jill as she slept. He was thankful that it had been a relatively quiet week for her and she'd actually been able to sleep. The first week after she'd come home had been awful.   
  
Mike arrived at Dr. Leavy's office after he got off duty on Thursday. He sat down and declined the offer of coffee. Dr. Leavy took his place behind his desk and picked up his paper and pen.  
  
"So, did you think about your feelings that night?" Dr. Leavy asked.  
  
"Yeah, but I was feeling so many things that night, I wouldn't even know where to start," Mike sighed.  
  
"Okay. When you first walked into the restaurant that night, how were you feeling?" The doctor asked, watching him carefully.  
  
"I was feeling great. My wife and I were out celebrating our anniversary. It was a romantic moment, but things went wrong almost right away," Mike explained.  
  
"How did things go wrong?"  
  
"When I made the reservation I asked for a specific table. When we got there, the maitre d' told me he forgot to make a note of it and gave our table to someone else. I slipped the guy a twenty so he'd move the couple who was sitting there," Mike explained.  
  
"So you got your table, after all?" Dr. Leavy guessed.  
  
"Yeah, but I wish-" Mike stopped mid-sentence.  
  
"Go ahead, Officer Danko. Finish what you were going to say. That's why you're here."  
  
"I wish I hadn't made such a big deal about it," Mike finished in a shaky voice.  
  
"Do you think things might have turned out differently if you'd sat somewhere else?" He asked.  
  
"I don't know. I mean, I know Wainz would've still come into the place, but I don't know if Jill would've gotten shot if we'd only sat somewhere else," Mike said, hitting his hand with his fist.  
  
"So you feel guilty?" Dr. Leavy asked him.  
  
"Yeah, I feel guilty! I'm her husband. I was supposed to protect her! She never should've gotten hurt!" Mike exclaimed bitterly, getting to his feet and pacing.  
  
"But the fact remains that she did get hurt and there's nothing you can do to change that. What do you think you could've done differently to protect her that night?" He asked Mike.  
  
"I don't know. Everything happened so fast."  
  
"Exactly. But, there's got to be something else floating around in your head besides guilt. You told me Tuesday that you and your wife have a 'great' relationship. Has it been different since the shooting?" The doctor asked, noting Mike's reaction.  
  
"We had some problems while Jill was still in the hospital, but we got things resolved, or at least I thought we had. The last couple of weeks, I haven't been able to make love to her," Mike answered hesitantly, sitting back down in his chair wearily.  
  
"Why do you think that is?" He queried.  
  
"I don't know. It's not that I don't want to, I just can't," Mike continued in a frustrated voice.  
  
"How does your wife feel about that?" Dr. Leavy asked neutrally.  
  
"I don't think she was too bothered about it in the beginning, but now I think she's getting concerned," he said. "There's something else about that night that you need to know about. I found out the morning after the shooting when Jill came out of surgery that she'd been pregnant and she miscarried the baby. The loss was devastating to both of us. We wanted a child very badly."  
  
"I think you just solved part of the puzzle. You just don't realize it yet," Dr. Leavy informed him.  
  
"What do you mean?" Mike asked hopefully, staring up at him.  
  
"Are you afraid of what might happen if Jill were to get pregnant again? Do you worry about the possibility of her losing another baby?" Dr. Leavy asked.  
  
"Yeah, I admit I think about that. But I know that what happened that night wasn't her fault," Mike said.  
  
"Does Jill know about how you feel?" He asked.  
  
"No. Like I said, she doesn't like to talk about that night. I've tried," Mike answered quietly.  
  
"Mike, I think if you two were to sit down and talk about what you're both feeling, you could both move forward. Because if you don't, it's always going to overshadow every aspect of your life together from here on out," Dr. Leavy told him.  
  
"I've tried to talk to her, but every time I try, she gets so upset that it's not worth the effort," Mike protested desperately. "I know how badly she was hurt that night. I don't want to hurt her more than she's already been hurt."   
  
"But we're not just talking about her right now. Protecting her feelings is admirable. However, shutting your own feelings aside isn't. Here's what I want you to do. Create an atmosphere, say a romantic dinner, then tell her that you want to talk. If it doesn't work, at least you can say you tried. That's your assignment for today. I'll see you again next Tuesday," Dr. Leavy said, standing up.  
  
  
  
When Mike got home he got a beer from the refrigerator and thought about his session with Dr. Leavy. He tried to break down what they had discussed. Fear and guilt. Those were the two factors that kept rolling around in his head. He'd been so afraid that he was going to lose Jill that night. And the guilt had been overwhelming. The 'what ifs' kept going through his head. 'What if' he hadn't been so insistent about the table? 'What if' he could've warned Jill somehow? More importantly, could he have warned her?  
  
He remembered they'd tried to go out to eat a couple of weeks after the shooting. It was a disaster. Mike had kept one eye on the door and Jill jumped at every noise. They'd left without eating and both of them had agreed they'd wait a while before attempting to go out to eat again.  
  
He thought about what Dr. Leavy had suggested about the romantic dinner. They hadn't done that in a while. Mike looked at his watch and wondered if he had time to fix something before Jill got home. 'There's always takeout,' he thought to himself, picking up the phone book.  
  
PART THREE: DISCUSSING THE TRAGEDY  
  
When Jill got home all she wanted to do was take a hot shower and collapse. It had been a long day. She was surprised when she walked into the apartment to find candles lit and her beloved Van Morrison playing on the stereo. She smiled as she walked over to Mike who handed her a glass of wine. "What is all this?" She asked in a delighted voice, kissing him.  
  
"I think they call it a 'romantic dinner.'" He answered, returning her kiss. "I ordered Chinese. It should be here in a little while."  
  
"You must've had a good day," Jill said, taking her glass of wine and sitting on the sofa.  
  
"Well, it wasn't bad," he hedged, sitting beside her. "But, I do have ulterior motives for the dinner."  
  
"Oh, and what would those motives be?" She asked, trembling slightly and gulping her wine.  
  
"I'll tell you after dinner," he promised as the doorbell rang. "And, I think that's it now."  
  
Mike opened the door and paid the delivery man. He carried the bag with the food into the kitchen and removed the contents. Jill put her wine glass on the coffee table and walked into the kitchen as Mike was putting food on two plates. She wanted to talk about anything other than what she suspected Mike wanted to talk about.  
  
"So, what's for dinner?" She asked curiously.  
  
"Well, let's see. We have sweet and sour chicken," he smiled at her.  
  
"My favorite," she said, returning his smile.  
  
"I know. Then, we have moo goo gai pan," he continued, as he carried the plates to the dining room table.  
  
"Your favorite," Jill said, sitting down.  
  
"I know this, too. Then, we have the usual rice and stuff."  
  
"Stuff, huh?" She smiled.  
  
"Yeah, stuff. I hope you enjoy this," he stated as he picked up a pair of chopsticks.  
  
"I'm sure I will," she confirmed, picking up her chopsticks.   
  
Mike kept glancing over at Jill as he ate. He wasn't quite sure how he was going to go about this. He knew if he wasn't careful that she'd get angry and shut him out completely. He just kept thinking about the two words that kept running through his mind, fear and guilt. "So, how was work?" He asked, trying to keep their dinner conversation light.  
  
"Interesting. It's amazing what children will try to stick up their noses," Jill answered, stifling a laugh.  
  
"You had a few minor surgical procedures, huh?" Mike asked.  
  
"Just a few."  
  
He re-filled her wine glass, then reached over and covered her hand with his own. She'd missed the feeling of just sitting and holding hands, the reassuring warmth of his hand in hers. She looked at him and gave him a dazzling smile.  
  
After dinner, he helped her wash the dishes, then they took their wine and went to sit on the sofa. Jill could tell by looking at Mike that he was ill at ease, so she decided to try to ease him into whatever it was he wanted to talk about.  
  
"So, you said you had an ulterior motive for the romantic dinner. Do you want to talk about what's on your mind?" She asked him gently, taking his hand and squeezing it affectionately.  
  
"Yeah, I do," he replied slowly, staring into his wine glass. "But, first off, I want you to know something. I love you very much and I wouldn't do anything to hurt you. But if I don't talk about this, I'm going to lose my mind. I don't want you to interrupt. I just want you to hear me out," Mike concluded in a quiet voice.  
  
"Okay," she agreed hesitantly, kissing his fingers.   
  
"I've been thinking about that night a lot. I let you down and I'm sorry," he began in a shaky voice. "I should've been facing the door. Any good cop knows this. It's second nature. If I'd seen Wainz walk in, I might've been able to do something to warn you. I could've shoved you under the table or something. I don't know!" He slammed the glass down on the table and jumped to his feet in frustration. "I shouldn't have been so insistent about the table. Maybe if we'd been sitting somewhere else, you wouldn't have gotten hurt. What I'm trying to say, I guess, is I should've done a better job of protecting you that night. I don't know if that's the cop in me talking or the man, but it shouldn't have happened. If I'd done what I was supposed to do it wouldn't have. I was so afraid that night, babe." He dropped back to her side and looked at her pleadingly. "I thought I was going to lose you and I couldn't bear that. You're the most important person in this world to me," he finished with tears in his eyes.  
  
"Mike, nothing that happened that night was your fault," she stated firmly, putting her arms around him. "There's was nothing you could've done. You didn't let me down! Let me help you through this. Please? You have nothing to feel guilty about. You did the best you could that night. You subdued a madman before he hurt anybody else. That took a tremendous amount of courage." She swallowed hard and forced herself to continue. "I didn't have time to be afraid that night. The fear came the next morning when I asked you about the baby. I could see it in your eyes as soon as I asked you. I'm afraid of getting pregnant again. I'm afraid to set foot in a restaurant, at least not without armed escorts. But, I'm mostly afraid of losing you," she concluded in a small voice, touching his face.  
  
"You're not going to lose me, baby. Not without one hell of a fight," he promised, pulling her into his arms and holding her. "When I thought about this evening, I had it figured out from beginning to end, but I think for right now, we should just take it one step at a time."  
  
"We've waited this long to make love, a few more days isn't going to make any difference," she commented, pulling away to kiss him.  
  
"I love you," he said, burying his face in her neck.  
  
"I love you, too," she said, holding onto him tightly. She'd tried for so long to block out the events of that night. There were memories of that night she'd just as soon forget. She remembered coming to as they were putting her into the ambulance. All she remembered seeing were the red lights of the police cars and the ambulance. She remembered seeing bruises on Mike's hand a couple of days later, but he'd always hedged when she asked him where he'd gotten them.  
  
"Mike, do you remember when I asked you about the bruises on your hand? I remember your fingers were all black and blue, but you wouldn't tell me why. I need to know what happened to your hand that was so awful that you felt you couldn't share it with me. I know you didn't get it when you punched Wainz," she said, pulling away and looking into his eyes.  
  
Mike sighed and rubbed a weary hand over his face. She was asking about the hardest part of that night and he wasn't sure how he was going to explain what happened. "Jill, what do you remember about that night?"   
  
"I remember everything up to the shooting. After that, I remember images, but I'm not sure if they were real.. I remember the color red. It seemed to cover everything. I heard people screaming. I lost you," she admitted, looking at him as tears filled her eyes again.  
  
"What do you mean, you lost me? Babe, I didn't go anywhere," he said, confused.  
  
"Why was everything so red? I hate that color!" Jill got up and went into the kitchen, extremely agitated.  
  
Mike was afraid of getting this kind of reaction from her. It happened every time they'd tried to talk about that night. But he didn't understand why she was fixated on the color red. She stood in the kitchen doorway with her arms crossed over her chest, trying to regain some kind of control.   
  
"Maybe if you could tell me where you saw the color red, I could help you understand," Mike began patiently, walking up to her.  
  
"Um, there were red...red lights," she screwed up her face, deep in concentration. "The screaming was so loud, I wanted to cover my ears, but my arms wouldn't move. And I didn't know where you were," Jill cried in anguish.  
  
Now Mike understood what she was talking about. There were police cars all over the place when they'd brought her out of the restaurant. But what she didn't realize was that the person screaming was herself. She'd begun screaming when EMS started to check her out, so they'd strapped her arms to the gurney so she wouldn't injure herself worse.  
  
"The red lights were from the police cars," he explained gently, taking her in his arms. "You kept screaming for me when they were putting you into the ambulance. You grabbed my hand and wouldn't let go of it. Me and the two ambulance attendants literally had to pry your fingers loose. Then, later at the hospital, after I saw you, I came outside and put my fist into a wall. That was how my hand and fingers got bruised ," he finished, taking a deep breath to keep from crying as he remembered the horror of that night.  
  
"You were there the whole time? You never went anywhere?" Jill asked in a small voice, still not quite believing him.  
  
"The only time I left your side that night was when they forced me to leave. I was afraid if I left you, I was never going to see you again," he confessed as tears began falling down his face.  
  
Later that night Jill lay beside Mike with her arms wrapped tightly around his waist, her cheek pressed into his back. They'd both been physically and mentally drained after their talk and had gone to bed early. Jill thought sleep would instantly overtake her as it had Mike, but instead she lay awake more than three hours later, still thinking about that night. Her first conscious memory was waking up early that next morning, feeling Mike's hand in hers. She vaguely remembered him coming to see her briefly the night before. But, as she'd told Mike, everything after the shooting was a disjointed blur. Trying to force the memories didn't help. She clasped her hands tighter around Mike and tried to go to sleep. She smiled as she felt him grasp her hands and squeeze them. With that small bit of reassurance, she was finally able to drift off to sleep.  
  
PART FOUR: PUTTING THE DEMONS TO REST  
  
Over the course of the next several days, things continued to improve gradually. Mike continued to see Dr. Leavy and the nightmares occurred less frequently as the nights passed.  
  
Jill was working one afternoon about 10 days after their talk when Willie and Terry popped up at the nurses' station.  
  
"Well, hello, Mrs. Danko. We haven't seen much of you lately," Terry teased with a smile.  
  
"Hi, guys," Jill said, smiling at them both.  
  
"Willie and I were talking this morning and we realized that it's been a while since the four of us went out and did something. We were wondering if maybe you and Mike wanted to get together tonight and go have pizza," Terry suggested.  
  
Jill looked up at their expectant faces and willed her heart to stop pounding. She'd love nothing better than a night out with the three guys, but the thought of sitting in another restaurant almost gave her a panic attack. "Let me talk to Mike and I'll have him call you guys. What time did you want to get together?" Jill hedged shakily.  
  
"Oh, around 7:30 or 8," Willie said, looking at Terry, who nodded.  
  
"Okay. I'll talk to Mike when I get home," Jill promised, sounding far braver than she felt.  
  
  
  
Mike was lying on the sofa reading the paper when Jill walked in. His whole face lit up as he walked over and kissed her. "Hi. I missed you," he whispered, kissing her hungrily.  
  
"I missed you, too. Did you see Dr. Leavy today?" She asked curiously, returning his kiss.   
  
"Yeah, for the last time. From here on out, I think I can deal with this on my own," he answered, taking her hand and leading her over to the sofa.  
  
"I saw Terry and Willie this afternoon," she informed him quietly, sitting on the couch and closing her eyes. "They invited us to go out for pizza tonight. I told them I had to talk to you first."  
  
"How do you feel about it?" He asked cautiously, sitting beside her and taking her hand.  
  
"Yeah, I'd like to spend some time with them. We haven't done that in a long time. But if you don't want to-" she stopped as he kissed her.  
  
"No, it's okay. I'd like that, too. Besides, I don't think you're going to be any safer than you would be in a place surrounded by three cops," he reassured her, picking up the phone and calling the guys.  
  
Later that evening the four of them went to the pizza place in Mike's car. It was tense at first, but Mike and Jill gradually relaxed. The four of them sat in a round booth laughing and trying to outdo each other in the story telling department. Mike sat with one eye on the door, holding Jill's hand tightly the entire night.  
  
"Hey, did you ever tell Jill about Willie getting busted in the middle of one of Ryker's lectures?" Mike asked, smiling.  
  
"Which lecture? You know Willie. He always has to interrupt Ryker and start him on his third or fourth ulcer," Terry tossed in, taking a drink of his beer.  
  
"The 'uniform of a rookie is tan, the mouth of a rookie is shut,'" Mike mimicked.  
  
"Oh, that lecture," Willie groaned.  
  
"He told me he wouldn't recommend me dating Ryker's sister," Terry added.  
  
"Neither would I," Mike agreed, grinning broadly.  
  
"Very funny," Terry remarked.  
  
Mike had missed this, the bantering between him and his best friends. It was so nice to just be able to sit somewhere and have a good time, laughing and teasing each other. He glanced over to find Jill watching him intensely. He moved closer to her and kissed her.  
  
"Hey, do you guys want a room or something?" Terry teased.  
  
"Eat your heart out, Webster," Mike teased back.  
  
  
  
They got back home just after midnight. When they walked into the apartment Mike locked the front door, then he turned around and pulled Jill into his arms. "Alone at last," he announced, as he kissed her.  
  
"You okay?" She asked apprehensively, taking in his actions.   
  
"I'll have you know that the reason I'm bolting this door is so that I can have you all to myself," he stated, kissing her neck.  
  
"Can I ask you a question?" She asked, her body beginning to respond to him.  
  
"Uh huh."  
  
"Are we going to stand here in the doorway all night?" She pulled away and smiled at him.  
  
"I hope not," he whispered, taking her hand and leading her to their bedroom.  
  
They stood beside their bed kissing and touching each other through their clothes Mike slowly lowered Jill to the bed before lying down beside her. He felt like he couldn't get enough of her. He unbuttoned her blouse and began tracing a path down her body with his lips and his tongue. Jill sat up so Mike could help her remove her blouse and her bra. He gently traced her breasts with his fingers before lowering his head and taking her right nipple into his mouth. Jill gave a moan of pleasure as she arched her back and pulled him tighter to her body. Mike moved to her other breast and teased that nipple with his lips and tongue as well.  
  
Jill pulled Mike back up to her mouth and kissed him hungrily. She then unbuttoned his shirt with impatient fingers and slid it off of his body before throwing it in the general direction of the closet. She let her hands roam over his back and chest with a passion she didn't know she possessed. He groaned as she moved her hands lower and caressed him through his jeans.  
  
"Oh, God, Jill," he groaned, kissing her again and again. "I need you so badly."  
  
"I need you, too," she whispered as she unbuttoned his jeans and reached one hand inside, continuing to caress him through his boxers.  
  
After about a minute of exquisite torture, Mike managed to pull away from Jill's teasing fingers. "You know that two can play this game," he whispered huskily, unbuttoning her jeans and sliding them down her legs.  
  
Jill cried out in ecstasy when Mike slowly slid her panties down her legs and began touching her center. She thought she was going to explode as Mike increased the intensity of his strokes. "Mike, I need you! Now!"  
  
She impatiently yanked his boxers and jeans down his legs and he kicked them off before he moved up and entered her. He looked down into her eyes as he began to slowly thrust into her. Jill wrapped her legs around his waist as he gradually began to increase his strokes. She lightly trailed her fingers down his back and tried to pull him even deeper into her. She cried out his name as she felt herself plummeting over the abyss.  
  
Mike felt Jill tighten around him as she reached her climax, which was all he needed to send him straight over the edge. "I love you so much, baby," he whispered as he collapsed on top of her. After a few minutes, he pulled himself up to look into her eyes.  
  
"I love you, too, Mike," she sighed, pulling him down so they could share more hungry kisses.  
  
"Tonight was so perfect. Thank you," he said, rolling onto his back and pulling her into his arms.  
  
"No, thank you," she whispered as sleep overcame her.  
  
Mike smiled down at Jill as she snuggled into his arms. He knew now that they were going to be okay.  
  
THE END  



End file.
